


a secret that i wanna show

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Docking, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, mentions of polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: "Oh," Shane says, and quickly looks away (though the image is about to be forever burned into his mind), and in his peripheral he sees Ryan look over curiously, swiping at his chest with his towel. "Just saw your junk, man."
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Marielle Scott, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Comments: 44
Kudos: 272





	a secret that i wanna show

**Author's Note:**

> I believe this is technically half-docking, don't come for me. Thanks to the gang on discord for encouraging me to finish this filth. Love u guys. NO thanks to Jo, she did not help me with the title, which is from Skin, by Rihanna.

Shane is instantly obsessed, the first time he sees Ryan naked. Things happen when you share a hotel room with a guy, and it turns out that in the time they've spent together recently, Ryan's become a little bit shameless; when he walks out of the bathroom after his shower, he stands at the end of his bed and pulls the towel from around his waist to dry the rest of his body and hair. 

The problem is that Shane has very poor self-control, and lets his eyes drop to Ryan's cock the moment it makes an appearance. 

"Oh," Shane says, and quickly looks away (though the image is about to be forever burned into his mind), and in his peripheral he sees Ryan look over curiously, swiping at his chest with his towel. "Just saw your junk, man." 

They've apparently known one another long enough that it doesn't bother Ryan, because he snickers quietly and drops the towel, bending at the waist to look in his suitcase at the end of the bed. 

"Oh yeah? Thoughts?" Ryan asks, nonchalant as Shane's never known him to be, and for a split second, Shane wonders if he's wandered into some kind of mirror universe. Well, if Ryan's going to be chill, Shane can be chill too. 

"Nice," he answers, honestly. "Never imagined you as uncut."

Ryan looks up, a gleam in his eyes. He's stepping into a pair of grey-blue boxer briefs, the color light enough that Shane can still see the shape of him through them. When he realizes he's staring, he looks away fast. 

"Think about me naked often, Shane?" Ryan teases. "Do we need to have a talk?"

"Shut up," Shane rolls his eyes and considers the mirror universe again. He looks back down at his phone, ignoring how hot his face feels. "I just— you caught me by surprise. We've been doing this for years and this is the first time I've seen you naked so, like, whatever."

Ryan, apparently under the impression that his level of dress is acceptable, jumps onto his bed next to Shane's, grinning wildly.

"You wanna even up the playing field?" he smirks, and Shane finds himself spluttering, avoiding Ryan’s eyes, liking and unliking a tweet on his feed just so he can like it again. 

Thankfully, Ryan drops the subject (unfortunately not as quickly as he'd dropped his towel), and rolls over for his nightly call with Marielle, while Shane pops in his earbuds and considers going for a walk, maybe calling Sara. He nixes the idea just as quickly— he doesn't often call her when they're away on filming trips, doing so now might just worry her. Instead, he shoots her a quick goodnight text, turning over and switching off his bedside light. He falls asleep listening to some chill lo-fi beats and the rumble of Ryan’s unintelligible murmur underneath it all. 

.

He waits until breakfast, the morning after he gets home from his trip, to tell Sara. She sits across from him with her chin in her hands, coffee cup left on the table, steam rising up in the morning light. She looks tired, and Shane knows it’s because she never sleeps quite as comfortably when he’s not there.

“So I saw Ryan’s dick,” he says, and Sara’s smile widens into a devilish grin (Shane wonders if he’s just drawn to people with a natural spark of mischief in their smiles). She doesn’t even seem surprised.

“Good? Bad?” She asks, because she’s _Sara_ and she’s always looking for details. Shane has to take a long drink from his coffee cup, carefully thinking about how he wants to approach this. It’s not like he hasn’t told Sara things before, she’s got five-plus years worth of his deepest secrets and fantasies stored away for a rainy day. This particular topic, however, feels different.

“Nice,” he admits, a little bashful. “Honestly I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“Good?” She asks again, a little more hesitant this time, “Bad?”

“He’s— we’ve been friends for a long time now, we have a business, and he has a girlfriend.”

“So do you,” Sara points out, and Shane huffs into his coffee.

“Not everyone is like us.”

“You don’t know until you ask.”

She makes a very good point, but Shane’s _somewhat_ sure at this moment in time that Ryan’s friendship is not something he’s willing to risk, no matter how badly he wants to suck him off.

“We’ll see,” he says.

.

Shane is deeply burdened with a wealth of information. 

He knows all the sounds Ryan makes, his silly sighs and moans meant to perturb friends and colleagues, his grunts of exertion when he exercises, the slight pant of his breath when he jogs up two flights of stairs.

He knows Ryan’s expressions, the way his brows rise in concern or furrow in concentration, the way he purses his mouth when he’s confused. 

He knows the shape of Ryan’s hand around a sweating bottle of water on a warm day.

He knows what Ryan looks like naked.

It’s all he can think about. For _weeks_.

And especially — that one particular detail that’s been plaguing his thoughts. It’s not as though dicks are a new thing to Shane. He’d seen his fair share in college, even a couple when he moved to LA. He’s just never seen foreskin in the — pardon — flesh. And it’s always been something he’s curious about. How does it feel? Is it more sensitive? How _much_ more sensitive? How soft is it? How _wet_ is it?

You would think, at almost thirty-five years of age, Shane would be able to reign in such thoughts, especially in Ryan’s presence. You’d _think_.

.

Tourist Trapped takes them to Chicago, and in a hotel room that he and Ryan didn’t _need_ to share (but chose to anyway), he finds himself watching Ryan get ready for bed again. He finds himself thinking every thought imaginable with the taste of a whiskey sour on his tongue.

“My eyes are up here,” Ryan says, and Shane realizes he’s been staring. He feels caught, lifts his eyes from the vicinity of Ryan’s belly up towards his neck, his jaw. He can’t quite meet Ryan’s eyes — he definitely nowhere near tipsy enough to blame this on any alcohol they might have consumed with dinner.

“Sorry,” Shane says.

“Shouldn’t stare if you’re not gonna do anything about it,” Ryan says lightly, rifling through his backpack, and Shane feels like he’s about to swallow his own tongue.

“I— I wasn’t,” he manages to reply, and Ryan looks up.

“You weren’t staring? Or you weren’t gonna do anything?” His voice is sharp as a knife, but it’s not enough to cut the tension. Shane gets up off the bed and makes a beeline for the bathroom and away from this conversation, but he’s stopped by Ryan’s hand on his chest.

“C’mon, Ry,” he says quietly. “We had fun today. Let’s not—”

“I just wanna know what’s going on with you. You’ve been weird since San Diego,” Ryan says, and belatedly drops his hand from Shane’s chest.

“I’m _not_ trying to be weird,” Shane argues, but he sounds plaintive even to his own ears and tries not to feel pathetic about it.

“Did it really freak you out that much? Seeing me—”

“I’m not freaked out, Ryan, I promise—”

“I just thought, we’ve been friends for so long, I didn’t think you’d be—”

“Ryan,” Shane finds his voice again, and with it some intent. “I’m _not_ freaked out.”

“You’re not,” Ryan says, looking up- _up_ to find Shane’s eyes, and realization settles across his expression. “ _Oh_. You’re not.”

“Hm. Sorry,” Shane says, and feels his cheeks get hot as he looks away. Ryan, standing so close to him and so still, is silent. “I’m really trying not to be weird, but you know me, and weird is kind of my default mode.”

“Uh huh,” Ryan says, quietly, heavily. “Does— does Sara know?”

“Yeah,” Shane breathes. “You know I don’t keep secrets from her.”

“Good, good,” Ryan affirms, nodding. “I don’t keep secrets from Mari.”

“Good,” Shane echoes and starts nodding too. “Can you let me get into the bathroom now?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, so softly as he steps back. Shane tries to be collected about it, but in his mind all he can see is himself diving for the door of the en-suite, throwing himself inside at high speed and flicking the lock before Ryan can get another word in.

It takes him a few minutes of deep calming breaths before he can peel himself away from the door to splash some water on his face at the sink. His phone is on the bed, so he can’t hide in here all night. He wants to text Sara, maybe wants to hear her voice, needs her to tell him that things are okay and he hasn’t ruined something important just because he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering with his thoughts.

There’s no noise from outside the door, and after ten minutes of standing around, fretting, and not really needing to pee at all, Shane leaves the bathroom. Ryan is sitting on the edge of his own bed, and his head snaps up as Shane returns.

“Okay, so—” he begins, and Shane groans internally, muttering a quiet ‘ _Jesus Christ_ ’ as sits down on his own bed, facing Ryan across the aisle between them.

“Can we not talk about this, please? This one thing, I’d like to not talk about it,” he says, but there’s not an awful lot of conviction behind it. This conversation feels like something that will happen whether Shane wants it to or not.

“I extremely want to talk about it,” Ryan presses, and it’s exactly what Shane expected of him. Ryan’s always been inquisitive, always faced problems head-on, why would this be any different? “So like. You saw my dick and had a crisis.”

The bluntness of it is so _Ryan_. Filterless, saying the first terrible thing that pops into his head. Shane laughs, surprised, and watches as Ryan begins to grin too, shoulders shaking. He feels something inside him loosening up.

“ _Crisis_ might be too strong a word,” he shrugs, because he hasn’t had any kind of sexuality crisis since he was sixteen. “It’s a nice dick is all.”

“Thank you,” Ryan preens, buffs his knuckles against his shirt.

“I wasn’t ever expecting to see it,” Shane continues, feeling the need to explain himself. “You surprised me. Kind of like a jumpscare that haunts you as you try to fall asleep for weeks afterwards.”

“A lot to unpack there,” Ryan says, nodding curtly as though making a mental note, something to address later. 

“I just. I’d never seen one that wasn’t—”

“Your own?” Ryan cuts in.

“Circumcised,” Shane finishes, and nervously drags his hand over his beard, waiting for Ryan’s reaction. Something on Ryan’s face freezes, and Shane can practically see cogs turning behind his eyes. The pieces of the puzzle coming together.

“Uh, huh,” Ryan says, “You—you’re curious?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Shane says on an exhale, suddenly aware of the tightness in his lower belly, the familiar urgency that tells him he’s getting hard in his jeans. “I have questions.”

“You can ask,” Ryan says, rubbing a hand against the outside of his thigh, over his jeans. “We should be able to have conversations.”

 _We have conversations all the time,_ Shane thinks, _nothing like this._

“Okay,” he says instead, dredging up his list of questions from the (admittedly shallow, these days) depths of his mind. If they’re gonna do this, he’s going to dive right it, because it’s what Ryan would do. “Are you sensitive?”

“I think every dick is kind of sensitive, dude.”

“You know what I mean,” Shane says, and flops back onto the bed with a huff, propped up on his elbows to look across at Ryan. “Do you think it feels different to, say, mine?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan hedges, sounding thoughtful but suddenly hoarse. He clears his throat. “I uh, I don’t like the head directly touched really, sometimes it’s too much. When I see that in porn I always think it would feel like too much.”

“Yeah, that— see that feels good to me,” Shane says.

“Yeah?” Ryan asks, a strange hitch in his voice, and Shane is suddenly fully hard and doing a very poor job of hiding it.

“Is it— What does it feel like to touch?”

“Uhhh,” Ryan exhales, seems to slump a little bit on the bed himself. “It’s skin. It’s soft, thin. Can’t be _too_ rough, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Shane says, even though he doesn’t know at all.

“Feels nice when— when it’s sucked. I like—” Ryan cuts himself off and laughs quietly as he flushes. “You don’t need to know that. TMI, sorry,” he says, and Shane is bodily resisting the urge to leap across the space between them and beg Ryan to finish his sentence.

_Tell me what you like. Please, God, tell me so I know._

“You get wet?” Shane asks, because full sentences are no longer something he’s capable of. Opposite him, Ryan closes his eyes and visibly swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Yeah. That might just be me, though.”

It’s unbearably hot, the thought of Ryan, aroused and soaking a wet spot through his underwear. Shane can’t help but let his eyes drift, wondering if, maybe, Ryan is hard too.

“How do you…” he swallows, hard. There might be no coming back from this. “When you touch yourself, how…”

“God,” Ryan croaks, eyes fluttering closed, head tipping back as he slouches even more, hips pushing further away from himself and closer to Shane. And Ryan is definitely, _definitely_ hard too now. “You wanna see?”

Shane nods, breathing out a “yeah” as Ryan reaches down and unzips, lifting his hips off the bed when he pushes both his jeans and briefs down in one fell swoop. His cock springs up and Shane feels like his throat closes right up, and there’s a sharp tug of arousal deep in his gut when he can’t look away. Ryan wasn’t joking about getting wet, because Shane can already see the way the head glistens, barely peeking out from the foreskin.

“Fuck, Ryan,” he says, and Ryan huffs out a small noise of agreement, trembling hand reaching for himself. Shane watches, so eager, as Ryan circles his thumb and index finger and uses just the slightest pressure to slide his foreskin up over the head and then down over the shaft. It looks so easy, so fluid, and watching it makes Shane’s mouth _water_. Ryan probably doesn’t even need lube like this. God knows he’s wet enough.

“Feel good?” Shane asks, breathless. He finds he can’t look away.

“Uh-huh,” Ryan breathes, and his hips shift up as he fucks into his hand. He’s keeping it slow, controlled, but he looks as though he wants to burst right out of his body. Shane wonders if maybe he’s close already. If he’s just that sensitive. Or just that worked up. 

“You _look_ good,” Shane tells him, and Ryan moans just a little louder as his own grip gets tighter, jerking himself just a bit faster. “Hey, hey, slow down there,” Shane says, and realizes he’s already pushing himself off the bed to get closer to Ryan. “Slow down, I still have questions.”

Ryan looks up at him, frozen. He’s panting quietly, flushed all the way down his neck to his chest, nipples hard through his t-shirt. He makes _such_ a pretty picture, just like Shane knew he would.

“Okay,” Ryan says, trying to catch his breath. “Shoot.”

Shane sits down next to him, watches Ryan slowly start stroking himself again, more controlled now.

“You ever dock with someone?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“What, like, just— just put it in and chill for a while?” Ryan asks, and Shane snorts softly.

“No, no, pretty sure that’s cock warming,” he says, and notes the way Ryan’s belly jumps, tensing and releasing in the space of a split second. “I mean, pulling your foreskin over someone else’s cock. Jerking off like that, with them inside you.”

Ryan chokes out a noise that sounds like sounds almost like a _“god”_ or _“guh”_ and a drop of precome slides down his shaft. “No, _fuck_ , Shane. I haven’t.”

“You were in a frat.”

“You can’t say that every time you find out about something I haven’t done,” Ryan bites out, and he’s very clearly close to coming, despite having slowed to a snail’s pace with his hand on himself. “We didn’t do that. I’ve never been with a guy.”

“Do you want to?” Shane asks, before he can think twice.

Ryan goes stock still next to him, but not before he quickly lets go of his cock, hands twisting into the hotel bedspread beneath him.

“Ry?”

“Holy fuck, if you so much as _breathe_ on me I’ll come, right this second,” Ryan pants, and there’s a whine in his voice, something desperate like Shane has never heard before, and oh boy does it awaken _something_ in him.

“You should learn to pace yourself. You’re in your thirties now, Ryan.”

Ryan glares at him, a much more familiar sight.

“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you right now.”

“No you won’t, you want my dick in your dick.”

“Don’t say it like that. Take off your pants. Take it all off.”

Shane does, but not because Ryan tells him to. He’s slow about it, takes his time undoing his belt and then his jeans, pausing to pull his shirt overhead first. He bends at the waist to undo the laces of his boots, carefully removing them and his socks, as Ryan watches him from the bed, a gorgeous wreck.

Ryan makes a noise when Shane steps out of his jeans and underwear, when he’s finally fully naked. For the first time, Ryan looks almost overwhelmed.

“Is this okay?” Shane finds himself asking, and wonders if he’ll kick himself for it later.

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes, “Help me out here?” He kicks out his legs, jeans caught around his thighs above his knee, sneakers still laced. Shane wordlessly gets to his knees and helps Ryan out of the rest of his clothes, while Ryan peels his t-shirt off and provides a free show in the process.

When they’re both naked, Shane climbs onto the bed, and Ryan asks, “Where— how do we…?”

“Lie down with me,” Shane murmurs, and tugs Ryan down next to him; Ryan goes easier than expected, and Shane has a sneaking suspicion that he likes being moved around like this, likes being shown what to do.

“And you haven’t done this before?” Ryan asks, gasping as Shane slots their legs together, pulling Ryan closer by the hips. Face to face like this, it feels so much more intimate than he could have imagined.

“No,” Shane says. “It doesn’t seem that difficult to do. If something doesn’t feel good, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Yeah,” Ryan sighs, and lets his hips tilt forward, the length of his cock dragging against Shane’s, both of them gasping at the contact. “Fucking do it, please. Touch me.”

And Shane does as he’s told, slips his fingers around the shaft of Ryan’s cock, tugging gently a few times, luxuriating in the slow drag of the foreskin, the way Ryan’s breath shudders out of him and the way he twitches into Shane’s hand as though he’d love nothing more than to fuck it. They both know this is going to take restraint from both of them.

It takes two hands to get it right, Shane awkwardly holding himself in one hand and Ryan in the other, and Ryan hiccups when the tips touch together as Shane rubs precome over them both. _So sensitive_ , Shane thinks. In an ideal world, they’d have some lube for this, but all of this is honestly the last thing he’d have expected to happen when he’d packed for this trip.

“Good?” he asks, when he feels Ryan start to shake.

“Fucking get on with it,” Ryan bites, as he sucks his lower lip into his mouth. He’s holding onto Shane’s bicep for dear life, hips straining to stay still.

It doesn’t take much.

He gives Ryan a few strokes, getting a feel for him, finding that he loves the way he can feel the skin and the stiffness beneath it, the way it moves freer than his own, the sound it makes as it slips over the head, the sound _Ryan_ makes.

The magic happens when he tugs up firmly enough that the rim of the foreskin slides over his own cock, just barely, before slipping back down with the stroke of his hand. Ryan lets out a startled gasp and turns his face into Shane’s shoulder.

“Ryan,” Shane groans, and Ryan moans in return as he slides his hand down the length of Shane’s arm. Shane expects Ryan to push his hand away so he can take over and control the intensity, but he’s surprised when Ryan’s hand keeps traveling _down_ , until he’s cupping Shane’s balls in his palm. “Oh _fuck_ , Ryan.”

“That’s it,” Ryan says, “You can pull harder.”

Each tug brings Ryan’s foreskin over the head of Shane’s cock, each time enveloping him in a strange new heat. Not quite a mouth, not quite the clutch of a pussy, softer, almost not enough to get him there. _Almost_.

Shane moves his grip until he can feel both crowns in his palm and slowly strokes over them both, again and again, squeezing his fist around them both. Ryan’s breath is hot against his neck; he can feel the moment he buckles, when it becomes too much.

“Shane I’m going to come,” Ryan says, all in a breath, desperate, and Shane understands why. He can feel himself through Ryan’s skin, and he can hardly stand it. For Ryan, it must be something else entirely.

“Yeah, do it,” Shane tells him, squeezes tighter around them both as Ryan shudders and moans into his shoulder. “Come for me, c’mon.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, “Fuck, _Shane_.”

And then Shane can feel it, the wetness around them thick and hot with each pulse as Ryan comes, growling against Shane’s neck, teeth grazing against the skin. He bucks, almost slipping out of Shane’s grasp, and when Shane squeezes, he bites down harder.

Shane’s last thought before he falls over the edge is, _I wonder if there’ll be a mark to show Sara,_ and then he’s coming too, riding on the vestiges of Ryan’s orgasm into his own.

.

They’re careful when they pull apart, Ryan swearing softly under his breath and wincing as he rolls onto his back. 

Ryan breaks the silence first, murmuring, “Not what I expected to do tonight,” and Shane looks over at him, at his ruffled hair and his pink cheeks. He looks calmer than Shane could have ever imagined, it’s a tragedy that Shane’s never seen post-orgasm Ryan before this moment.

“No,” Shane agrees. “But I liked it.”

“Me too,” Ryan admits. “I think I’d like to do it again.”

“Me too,” Shane agrees, and that seems to be the end of that. 

As much as Shane loves to talk with Ryan for hours, the silence right now feels just as comfortable. He knows any minute Ryan’s going to sit up and grumble about badly needing a shower and cleanup, and Shane is already mentally working up the courage he’s going to need to ask to join him.

He turns his head to look again, and finds Ryan already looking back at him, eyes sparkling full of light. Curious, as ever.

He asks, 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  
  
  



End file.
